


knightly habits

by forpeaches (bluecarrot)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Idiots in Love, sad emotions, the title is a pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 06:17:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20523329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/forpeaches
Summary: They were in bed, and Jaime was crying.





	knightly habits

**Author's Note:**

> written on my birthday, 2019.

They were in bed, and Jaime was crying.

It was not their first time or the second but somewhere between the thirtieth and the thirty-seventh. Brienne had kept track awhile and then lost count — in part because her insolent bedpartner laughed himself sick when he heard her say it.

And she wasn’t certain anymore what exactly counted. Was it when he went inside her? or when she swallowed him until he yelled? or when they move together and he shut his eyes and said her name like he was giving it to her, like they had created a world.

Jaime liked the straightforward fucking best — she didn’t have to ask, it was on his face. And she liked it too. But nothing (she knew not to tell him this) nothing was better than afterwards, when Jaime lay on his back and stared up like the blank ceiling was scattered with stars. He lost himself then, somewhere inside her body; and she knew better than to wake him.

He would come back. He always came back.

All of this counted or none of it did, and it didn’t matter at all, because Jaime was crying.

She wasn’t sure what to do. This wasn’t normal, even for Jaime it wasn’t normal, and his definition of “normal” included things that Brienne would consider rude and embarrassing. Was that because he was a man or a lord or a Lannister?

She thought he hadn’t wept since they took his hand; tears weren’t a knightly habit. He might not even remember crying then, he was so sick and stupid.

... He was stupid still if he thought she didn’t hear him, or see his body shaking.

He was laying on his hand. He couldn’t wipe his face nor hide it, without admitting it.

She wanted to speak to her father. Jaime is so smart, she would say, though he never acts on it unless he can pretend to be a fool —

He stirred against her, this man who pretended to be a fool. “Did I hurt you?” she said: but he was feigning sleep, now, and still trembling. Still weeping.

She knew how that felt — having a wound so raw it couldn’t bear to be exposed, much less cleaned.

She brushed away the wet. “It’s alright.” Because it was, whatever it was. It’s alright.

**Author's Note:**

> more cleaning out the folder on my phone that’s titled “random jrienne”.


End file.
